


200 Points to Sickness

by Rascalbirdy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed, Because I wanna give it a shot 8D, F/M, Peter Pan is not Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold's Father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rascalbirdy/pseuds/Rascalbirdy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, ONE DAY, Keith misses school and returns the next day in English class with a partner project worth 200 points. He informs his teacher about his absence and she then points to the one lone student sitting in the corner of the room, saying he has to work with her for the next two weeks. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his palms turned clammy, tightening around his backpack straps. As if feeling someone looking at her, Jill Bird looks up from her phone and when her eyes connect with Keith’s crestfallen expression, a wicked grin spreads wide on her face and she brings up a red, manicured hand to wiggle her fingers at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stuck Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Hello! Welcome to my second attempt at fan fiction. I plan on making this at least two chapters, but if it grows past that, then so be it. (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ I tried my best to fit the names for each of them with the Queen's wicked sense of humor.
> 
> Jill Bird- Wendy  
> Keith Smith- Peter (Scottish: Keith-Forest, I also found it to be normal in a way)  
> Ceann Caillte- Felix (Irish: Lost One)  
> Amella Fallen- Tink (Latin: Amella-To Strive or Excel or Rival)
> 
> (I may or may not have used a bit of Google translate.)

    Jill Bird was a leather clad menace who fought with a dark fire in her eyes and a grin that rivaled the Cheshire Cat. She threw brutal punches and savage kicks that thirsted for blood and spit words dipped in venom. Her attention divided among the male population in her high school, jumping from one to another without care for what others said and instead savored each remark, feeding it to her need to continue doing so. She sneered at the idea of growing up, having _responsibilities_ stacked on her and  _happiness_ wilt with her life. She listened to no one other than her cousin, Amella Fallen, a sharp grinned person who cackled and happily joined her in pranks set on the people of Storybrooke, and her loyal friend, Ceann Caillte, an introverted observer (that talked to only Jill and Amelia as far as anyone’s seen) that could give Jill information of someone in the school at anytime. Jill absolutely loathed the word “love”, especially if it was true, and she turned a clammy shade at the mere thought of it all. If anyone ever asked why, she’ll snicker in their face. “Love is too bothersome, weak! Why would I want to be tied down to  _one_ person?” If there was anyone that Jill loved to taunt and mock more though, it was Keith Smith, a plain bookworm who’s eyes stared down in the hallways, who drowned in green sweaters three sizes too big, who wore turtle glasses that always slipped down his face, and who hid a secret fire. Jill loved watching the fire crackle across his features when she spoke just the right words and prodded at the right subjects with sharp grins.

Keith, on the other hand, hated Jill Bird with a scorching passion. He wanted her to leave him alone since day one. He could never remember when Jill had started to taunt him, but every time he tried to think of what could’ve caused such obnoxious attention, he was left with foggy memories. He was the opposite of what Jill was. Instead of mocking politeness, he was a gentleman, honest to his word. He could never fight back well, but something about Jill always urged a biting remark to fly past his lips. His acting was stale and far too suspicious. If he ever attempted to lie, he’d look this way and that, fidgeting with his clothes; but the stories he wrote were woven like fresh silk, each letter set to perfection. Keith couldn’t wait to grow up, to leave Storybrooke and look at different lands, different cultures, historical landmarks; he already knew what colleges he was aiming for and he hoped to major in Writing.

One day, _one day_ , Keith misses school and returns the next day in English class with a partner project worth 200 points. He informs his teacher about his absence and she then points to the one lone student sitting in the corner of the room, saying he has to work with her for the next two weeks. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his palms turned clammy, tightening around his backpack straps. As if feeling someone looking at her, Jill Bird looks up from her phone and when her eyes connect with Keith’s crestfallen expression, a wicked grin spreads wide on her face and she brings up a red, manicured hand to wiggle her fingers at him. Despite his attempts to try and change his partner, his teacher just shook her head and Keith swore he saw a flash of sympathy across her features. With a gulp, Keith soldiered on down the aisle to an empty seat in front of Jill who kicked her feet up on her desk and folded her hands on her stomach, chair balancing on two legs.

“Nice to see you, partner.” It was supposed to be a link of polite words, but through Keith’s ears, he heard a hiss of a snake. 

Three days into their first week as partners, Jill went missing. Keith was hunting all around the school during lunch on Thursday, a scowl darkening his typically meek features. He knew that disrespectful, horrible girl wasn’t gonna do any part of their work, but he figured that she would _at least_ appear at class, even if it was to annoy him. If he didn’t have so much work from his other classes, he would have finished this stupid partner project in no time. Finally, he found Ceann Caillte on the school bleachers, dragging out a cigarette.

On rare instances the two would talk to each other,  but they never spoke of much. At most, they sent little nods of acknowledgment to each other in the hallway; any other sign of noticing one another was based purely because of Jill. Besides, Ceann held a much too intimidating air for Keith to carry out a simple conversation in. Ceann raised a brow, half-lidded eyes lazily trailing the boy who stumbled up the bleacher stairs to stand beside him.

“Where’s Jill?” Well… That wasn’t what Ceann expected.

“Ohh,” Ceann drawled with a crooked smirk. “Well, this is new. The rabbit going after the bird.” Even irritated, Keith’s flushed cheeks deepened and he bristled at the memory. He wore rabbit pajamas _one time_ to school in his rush to catch the bus and suddenly he’s nicknamed Rabbit by that demon girl. He shook his head to diverge himself from the train of thought. 

“Look,” He grimaced, fists at his sides to try and stop himself from shivering in the October chill. “I just- I just want to know where she is. We have a project and it’s really,  _really_ important that it’s finished and I can’t do it on my own. I need help, so if you could please just tell me where she is, that’d be nice.” Ceann looked him over.

“What would I get in return?”

“What?”

“Come on now, Rabbit. You aren’t  _that_ dumb.” Ceann rolled his eyes and Keith couldn’t help but cross his arms protectively over his chest. Noticing this, Ceann snorted. “I also don’t want your body. Please. You’re Bird’s and my loyalty to Bird runs deep. I owe her my life.” Keith noticed the blatant pride softening Ceann’s normally blank and concealed features. He pursed his lips, but the words flew through his mouth before he could filter himself. 

“Why do you even _like_ her? She’s horrible!” His hand smacked into a dog pile over his mouth, eyes wide as he saw the instant protectiveness barb in Ceann’s eyes, mouth hardening in a thin line. Ceann stood and Keith bit back a yelp at his suddenly close proximity, hovering over him with a snarl.

“I owe her, because when no one else was there, Bird took me in. She held me in her home and gave me warmth and I believe you don’t even _deserve_ a speck of her attention, but she has her reasons for what she does and I believe in her decisions. Before you start asking people for things, learn to be a polite, goody-two-shoes.” Ceann stood straight and Keith inhaled sharply, not realizing he was even holding his breath. “If you want to find her, look for her yourself.” 

Ceann threw his cigarette on the bleachers, stomped it out, and left Keith gaping at air with his words replaying in his head like a broken record. He felt piqued, felt his face flush with embarrassment. That was the most that Ceann had ever spoken to him and he knew it could’ve gone better, but damn it all, he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong. He believed that Jill Bird was a horrible, wicked child who harassed him every day, who clawed and fought, who sprayed dirty words and eerie symbols on private property if she wanted to and cared little about anyone but herself. She played people like a puppet master and used them only when she wanted to until she was bored. She acted out with sadistic glee like some twisted child. 

“But,” He muttered and looked down at the cigarette at his feet, broken and burnt out. He hated it when he felt his sense of morality kick in. “Everyone has a reason for turning into some way, no one is  _born_ bad.” 

The bell rang and he shook his head before going to his next class, cheeks flushed and eyes watering from the cold, with a bag already in the class. 

Throughout the night, he pondered on the riddle of Jill Bird’s being. What caused her to be so… Cruel? If Ceann was really serious about what he said, about her, the girl who once went to juvenile center because she set the nurse’s trash can on fire, why does she act so brutally now? He remembered asking her about love, asking her if she even _could_ love. He remembered the way her face twisted with disgust, staring at him with a cold, unrelenting hatred. He remembered how she recoiled away from him and spit out that she didn't need love, she didn’t need the distraction. It was a short second, but he thought he saw a ghost in her eyes before she turned and left him in the cold, alone. Tomorrow he had to find Jill for sure and maybe, just maybe, he could actually try to learn more about her. With that concrete thought, Keith Smith, the normal boy who was a has-been king of a land only known in a storybook, who traveled between lands and lured boys out of their homes with a needle like grin and magical pan pipes, fell into a dreamless sleep.

  
(Emma Swan and a small child named Henry had driven into Storybrooke only hours before and the clock's handle hummed with movement.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Hello! Welcome to my second attempt at multi chapter fan fiction. I plan on making this at least two chapters, but if it grows past that, then so be it. (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ I tried my best to fit the names for each of them with the Queen's wicked sense humor. I wanted to set up the outline of my version of their cursed personalities and relations with each other. Wendy- I mean Jill, will talk with Pet- I mean Keith in the next chapter.
> 
> Jill Bird- Wendy  
> Keith Smith- Peter (Scottish: Keith-Forest, I also found it to be normal in a way)  
> Ceann Caillte- Felix (Irish: Lost One)  
> Amella Fallen- Tink (Latin: Amella-To Strive or Excel or Rival)


	2. Walking Into A Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He regretted it. He shouldn’t have skipped school. He should’ve waited till school ended like how he was taught and he should’ve ran to the bus right after."  
> In which a reluctant Kieth finally finds a very annoying and very flirtatious Bird.

After the bus squealed to a stop beside the school, Keith jumped off the second he could and sped down to the first spot he could think of where Jill and her friends hung around. He looked at the school bleachers where they were typically found, jumping around and sparring with one another or simply lounging in a tiny triangle, smiling from ear-to-ear with crooked, misplaced glee. Green eyes trailed across the wide and disappointingly empty bleachers. With a frown, he decided he’d have to toughen up and head to the dirty, rotten woods where bugs lurked and Jill and her crew hunted animals in a brutal mercy and ran around like animals themselves. If they weren’t there, they were most likely making a playground of the woods. Just as he turned his head and was about to pass the side of the bleachers, someone had roughly grabbed his sweater and pulled him behind it. Keith yelped as he fell to the ground and his glasses flew down beside his arm.

“Hey there, Rabbit.” Snickered a cool, Maori tinted voice.

Sputtering, Keith quickly grabbed his glasses and crookedly adjusted them on his nose. Beside Ceann stood Amella Fallen, blond hair swept up in a messy bun, red lips grinning, and green eyes inquisitive. She wore a thick green coat, kept together with a black belt, and skinny brown pants and black boots. Just like Jill, Keith hasn’t seen her around at all. Noticing he was stuck in a gaping, foolishly stuttering state, Amella rolled her eyes.

“Oh get up, Smith. Yeesh. I got a message from Jill.”

Keith quickly shuffled up at this and remembered how he needed to find her.“What does she want?” Amella snickered and shared a wayward look with Ceann who looked far from amused and more bored. He was in his regular clothing; a gray sweatshirt and faded jeans. Keith sometimes wondered if he even felt cold.

“Ceann here told us that you were looking for her. Well,” She clapped her hands loudly and threw them up in the air. “You got your wish! She decided that she, and I quote, “wants to see why my Rabbit is looking for me”.”

“Alright…” Keith frowned and nodded slowly before he looked over at Ceann warily. “Um, Ceann, about yesterday-.”

Ceann raised a hand and huffed, rolling his eyes as Amella smirked at him. “Spare me the dramatics. I don’t care.”

Keith fought the urge to ask if he was sure and Amella spoke up before he could even try to. “Jill lives in the downtown area. You obviously haven’t been there- being a richy-rich child- so before you get your little self lost, have some directions.” Amella took out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to Keith. With furrowed brows, Keith tilted his head and opened the paper. Jill’s dominating, scratchy handwriting covered the whole front and he took notice that he never DID hear of this street she lived on. Storybrooke wasn’t big, nor was it really small, but it was enough for someone to remember enough streets and special points, especially if you lived here for what felt like all your life.

“Um,” Keith looked up, eyes flitting back and forth between the paper and Amella unsure. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Psh.” Amella waved a hand and winked. “No prob, sugar cup. You might wanna check on her today. Tomorrow is gonna be a, hm…. A busy day for my dear cousin.” She turned towards Ceann, hands on her hips. “Let’s go, Ceann! Today, _you_  are gonna be helping me with some unfortunate _accidents_.” Ceann raised a brow, a hint of a smirk crossed across his features as he let Amella drag him away. Keith stood there, staring at them until they disappeared into the school (he knew they weren’t going to stay in it) just as the bell rung. He blinked and looked back at the sheet of paper before glancing at the school doors again. He never skipped a day of school, not since middle school where he was far too sick to even stand up. Shuffling his feet and tugging the collar of his sweater high enough to cover his mouth, he sighed. He’ll miss the bus if he doesn’t leave now. With that thought, Keith Smith, the goody-two-shoes, skipped school purposely for the first time.

* * *

 He regretted it. He shouldn’t have skipped school. He should’ve waited till school ended like how he was taught and he should’ve ran to the bus right after. But it was gonna _rain_ today and he didn’t like the rain, because with _rain_  came lightning and with lightning always came thunder and- Keith took a shaky breath, trying to calm down his anxiety with a hand over his heart. Staring out the window was all he did for 10 minutes of the bus ride. The scenery passed into a transition of the better, well kept homes with small gardens full of color, to crowded, gloomy apartments that stayed away from each other with thin alleys and fire escapes on their sides. He saw some a homeless man with a cardboard sign asking for money and, unlike the area he lived in, there were nearly zero children or adults around. He blamed and hoped it on school and work. Finally, the bus pulled to a stop. He hugged his bag close to his chest and tottered off with three others.

The bus pulled away with a huff and Keith took out the piece of paper from his pocket, reading over the directions quickly. He was close. Folding it neatly, he set it back into his jean pocket and continued on his way with his backpack on, knuckles white with the force he held the straps. He couldn’t help but look around the empty sidewalks. It took about 5 more minutes until Keith found Jill’s apartment building; red bricked and intimidating despite its five floors and fire escape on the side. He went up to the fifth and found what he hoped was Jill’s peeling burgundy door with a peeper hole and white doorbell right under it. Several times he looked the number over, making sure he didn’t ring some other person’s home. With a deep, shivering breath and one last grip on his sweater, he rung the doorbell.

Two minutes passed. Nothing.

Keith raised a brow and looked back at the paper, paling. Did he choose the wrong apartment home? He looked back up at the door, waited a second, and nudged his glasses up higher on his nose. He rung the bell again. Four minutes passed and still no one opened the door. One last time, Keith rung the bell and not a second later, someone growled from the other side.

“Keep your bloody jammies on, I’m comin’!”

Keith never felt so thankful to hear the croaking(?) voice of Jill. It was short lasting though, because not a second later, the door ripped open and Jill stood in front of him with a rumpled blue shirt that nearly covered all of her black shorts. Her usually well-kept hair tangled like a nest and brown eyes flared into a muddy color. Keith noted that it looked like hell stomped over her; with her red tipped nose, glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks. Jill’s dark features softened for a split second, unbeknownst to Keith, as she realized it was him. She quickly slipped into a suave smirk and raised a brow, leaning on the doorway with crossed arms.

“Oh, there you are, Rabbit. Spending the night?”

Keith snorted and returned his grip onto his backpack straps. “As if. I just wanted to work on the project, Bird.”

Jill chuckled. Keith never understood it, but something about calling Jill by her last name caused his heart to beat just a tad quicker and a thrill, an excitement, to run through his veins. He hated the feeling, but it felt right at times and by the time he realized what he called her, it was too late to take it back. Disappointingly, this time was one of those times.

“Mhmm. How many times did I use _that_  excuse I ask myself.”

Keith rolled his eyes and shoved Jill aside before going into her home. He only took a couple of steps before he froze.

“This- This is…”

Jill sauntered beside him and looked at her interior, curious at what could caused her rabbit to stop so suddenly.

“What?”

Keith gulped, eyes wide and discomforted by how empty the apartment was. There was nearly nothing, the living room being filled with a simple black pull out couch with a few cushions and a haphazardly thrown blanket, a coffee table, a boxed tv; even the kitchen had dishes stacked one over the other and nearly overflowed in the sink.

“It’s- It’s so… So…”

Jill glowered, starting to grow impatient with his stupid stuttering. “ _Well_? Spit it _out already_.”

Keith shut his mouth with a ‘click’ and muttered. “ _Unclean_.”

Jill snorted and rolled her eyes, waving an indifferent hand. “If you’ve forgotten, not all of us have a luscious multi-floored homes with clean China and polished body windows.”

“The dishes are practically falling out of the sink though! I can even see bits of food on the couch and the floor. It’s important to stay clean y’now.”

Jill turned her head and raised a brow at Keith, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. “You’re not going to give me a lecture on the importance of being clean are you, Rabbit?”

“N-no! I just- Don’t you have some mother or father or _anyone_  to, y’know… Remind you to clean or something? There isn’t much, but it’s your home and-” Keith froze, his breath catching at the underlying vexation crackling through Jill’s tone.

“I have no parents or siblings, and despite what you may believe, my so-called “guardian” is rarely home to tell me anything. This is NOT my home, it’s simply a place I live in. Understand that and understand it _soon_.”

With eyes wide, he looked Jill over warily, brain trying to grab something to say, something that wouldn’t break the thin ice he slid himself onto. Jill on the other hand, looked as though she was barely restraining herself from grabbing the back of his head and smashing it into the door, painting it a new shade of red; her features a haven of icy contempt.

“Sorry…” He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, secretly wiping away the bit of sweat harvesting there. “I didn’t-. It-It wasn’t my p-place to speak like-like that…” Jill sighed after a couple of tortuous seconds with her glare burning on his head, loud and shuddering. Keith noticed her fists squeeze at her sides and come undone alibi with a bit of a struggle. He peeked up as she spoke and felt a burst of relief at the way she softened. Dare he say, he saw a ghost of dejection flash in her eyes before they resumed their smirking ways, but he doubted he saw anything of the sort.

“As long as you know your place, Rabbit.” She placed her hands on her hips and he tilted his head at her, deciding to turn the conversation to a much safer topic.

“So… Where were you? For the last couple of days you weren’t at school. Need I remind you the project is worth 200 points? We have nearly 1 week left to look up the information of the book, make an essay, the citations, and make a poster. I'd like to get this done, but I need help.” Looking at him without a care in the world, she responded easily.

“I was sick.”

“... Sick.” With narrowed eyes, his voice dragged with skepticism.

“Yes, Rabbit. Do you want me to spell it out for you?”

“You were sick. For nearly a week.”

“Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound like I was dying. It was only, with today, the third day I was out. It’s Friday today. We got partnered Tuesday cause you missed school Monday.”

“Yes, I _know_  that.” Keith closed his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose causing his glasses to lift. He lifted his head and looked her over. “You clearly look better though… Well, I mean…”

Jill raised a brow and narrowed glinting eyes. “Careful of your next words, _sweetie_.”

“What I mean is that you’re walking.”

“Yes. That is in fact a thing I do. If you haven’t realized, you’re walking as well.”

Jill was making this conversation go around in circles on purpose and Keith knew that she was hiding something else. He knew Jill Bird hated school, probably as much as she hates the thought of growing up like a regular person (he’s noticed-rather annoyingly-she hates anything that has to do with  normality), but he also dejectedly knew that she loved to ruin his days and (he believes) she sometimes went out of her way to do just that.

“Come on. There HAS to be another reason.”

“Why would there have to be another reason?”

“ _Jill_.”

“Keith.” She purred, wiggling her eyebrows, and he drew out a heavy breath.

“FINE. _Don't_  tell me then.”

“Tell you what?”

Keith groaned loudly and rubbed a hand down his face. When he looked back down at Jill, she was grinning wildly like usual, but this time the mischievous seemed to thicken on her features. Licking her lips, she leaned closer towards Keith and laid a hand on his chest with their noses barely touching, making him freeze.

“That was a marvelous noise you made there, Rabbit. Wanna make it for me again?”

He glared at her as his face flushed deeply with embarrassment, eyebrows arched and eyes burning. Pushing her off him, much to her obligating pouty displeasure, Keith growled through gritted teeth, “Can we _please_ just _start_ this _project_?”

“Whatever you want, sweetie, _whatever_ you want.” Jill sent him one last wink before sauntering down a short, lone hallway and into-what he believed to be-her room. He stood there for a while, checked his phone’s clock, and sighed at the fact it wasn’t even 12 yet. Walking into Jill’s room with his head hung low, a dark look that could battle one walking to the gallows, Keith concluded that this was going to be a long, _draining_  day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! ( ´•౪•`)  
> Still keeping up this story, I swear, I've just been having a writer's block and multiple essays (AP English, hot diggity) that keep throwing me down. But I was finally able to finish the second part of this story and i'm uploading this in school honestly so shhh. This chapter actually ended up being 4 pages and it was sorta hard to find a stopping point. Eh-heh. (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ  
> I plan on making a third part, but I gotta figure out what events will happen and I gotta make sure it actually stays to what's happening in the story. Pfft. Until next chapter~.


	3. Work, Question, Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Jill make a deal and try to learn more of one another. Jill isn't so keen on tea.

Keith unwillingly dragged his eyes up from the carpet when he took three steps into her room. Eyes bulging, his mouth fell at the room that exceeded what he was chary of. Jill’s room was small, just like the whole apartment, but it was clean compared to everything he’s seen so far. On the left wall, in the corner of the room, there was a small bed with a light blue bottom sheet and a white duvet. Beside the bed was Jill’s window, a fire escape right beside it, and a scanty brown desk right beside the door, complete with a fold up chair and a cushion. As Jill closed the door and sat on the bed, legs crossed and staring at him with boredom, Keith looked over towards a brown drawer on the right side of her room, then her boots propped up beside it. He raised an eyebrow at an innocent item propped up beside the drawer.

“You play an acoustic guitar?” Keith looked over towards her inquisitively as he walked over to her desk chair and set his bag on the ground. Jill snorted and raised a brow at him, eyebrow raised.

“Why else would I have it?” She jeered, causing him to arch his brows in annoyance.

“No need for the sarcasm…”  He muttered under his breath and Jill huffed and gestured to the bag as he turned her chair sideways and sat down, his feet nudging his shoes off.

“So what did you bring, Rabbit?”

Keith rolled his eyes at the nickname _again_ , but picked up his bag and set it on his lap. Zipping it open, he replied, “I brought the book. Our teacher told me you didn’t pick up a copy, so here.” He fished for a copy of _A Streetcar Named Desire_ by Tennessee Williams and held it out for her. As though Keith was giving her a plate of worms, Jill clicked her tongue and took the book with the side of her mouth pulled in disgust before she looked back at him. Keith snagged a faded green folder and put his bag on the floor again. He took out several papers and handed it to Jill, who took it with disclination, and and took out his own papers and set them on the desk. “I got you some copies too. One paper is supposed to help us with the essay- it has an outline on the back-, the second paper is supposed to be a rubric and the back of it has a checkbox, then, on the third paper, it has some requirements for the poster. We gotta have color on it,-”

“If it’s a blue poster, does that count as color?”

Immediately Keith replied, “No.” And continued to talk as though Jill didn’t look like she was dying in front of him. “-it’s gotta be, and I quote, “bigger than two sheets of paper taped together”,-”

“Damn.” Jill hissed, glancing to the side in disappointment. She personally thought that, for a “poster” she finished in under 10 minutes, she did rather good and highly deserved those 50 points.

“-and we have to put some _actual_ effort into it.”

Jill glared at the papers in her hand and wondered how Keith would react if she just tore these papers in front of him. She was sure he would most likely be mad and a red-faced Keith is always a hilarious sight to take in.

Keith, narrowing his eyes at her, muttered. “As obnoxious as it is, I know what you’re thinking and I swear to God, Jill, don’t you _dare._ ”

Jill snorted and snickered, her disgust with the papers being shoved away for a short while. She set the vile papers down beside her and leaned back on her hands. With Keith getting out a pencil from his bag and checking to see if it had lead, she hummed. “Favorite animal?”

Keith paused from his insistent clicking and raised a brow towards her. “E… Excuse me?”

“Favorite animal. I’m asking you what it is.”

“For you?”

Jill stared at him, eyebrows knitting in a glower. Keith glanced to the side and sat up straight, setting the pencil down on top of the papers. “What?” He questioned, bristling uncomfortably at how Jill stared at him.

She sighed, loud and echoing into the thick fog of the awkwardness of the room, pinching the bridge of her nose before shaking her head. Looking up with a hand raised towards him, she sighed “No… No, no. I was asking _you_ , Rabbit. _You_. What’s your favorite animal?” Like a fish, he opened and closed his mouth with understanding flashing across his features.

“Ohhh.”

“Yeah.” Jill drawled and rolled her eyes, but scoffed in amusement at her silly rabbit. Instead of getting the answer she expected to hear with his understanding, Keith scowled with confusion dribbling thicker on his features.

“What does that have to do with the work?”

Jill’s bottom lip poked out. “Aw, come on. It has nothing to do with this stupid work, but it’s pretty easy. Just answer the question.”

“Jill-”

“Rabbit.” She sing songed and Keith’s glare burned in a way that warmed her heart with amusement. She adored making him angry, that much was known, but to be fair, she’d been alone for the last two days. By alone, she meant empty of really having anyone (Keith) to poke with childish glee. Damn her body for being sick, but he’s here now so she can easily catch up on time lost! Keith, on the hand, seemed far from allowing themselves to stray from the work he _specifically came here for._

“Jill, no. I came here for the work and that’s it, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Cat?”

“What-,”

Jill shifted on the bed, crossing her legs with hands grasping her ankles. She cut him off quick and sassy all the while making a game of his rebuff. “Since you won’t answer a _simple_ question, I’ve taken it upon myself to list off as many animals as I can remember until you accept one.”

“No!”

“Not a cat, gotcha. Dog?”

“Jill-”

“Not a dog. Bird?”

“I said no-”

“Not a bird. You’re a tough nut, Rabbit.” She winked at his exasperation and her double innuendo, barely allowing any room between her own words to allow him access of defying her. “Ok, what about a turtle?”

“St-”

“Fish?”

“He-”

“Bear?”

“No-”

“You like the Blobfish, don’t you?”

“ _What?_ ” She’s gone crazy. That’s what he concluded. Jill Bird has officially lost the last crumbs of her mental state. Keith was ready to grab Jill’s shoulders and shake her to reality. She traveled the conversation along so quickly and left him no space, his hair was left disheveled from when he raked through it during his struggle to stop her.

“The Blobfish.” She paused to take in his gaping features, eyes wide and mouth in an ‘o’, it was a wonder how she didn’t laugh then and there. Before he could process that he had more than two seconds to speak, she continued on with a click of her tongue and mock shaming. “Usually smaller than 30 cm, it looks like sad sticky goop with black eyes that look into your soul?”

Keith bowed his head into his hands in defeat. He wondered what type of deity he pissed off have nearly one week worth of his life taken to the annoyance in front of him. He doesn’t remember doing anything bad, saying anything crude- other than the times he’s spoken to Jill that is. He lifted his head, glanced at the worksheets in the corner of his eye, then looked back at the wicked child-teen. He stared at her. Then, at the sudden burst of an idea, his tongue flicked over her bottom lip (she didn’t glance at it, not at all- nope) and shifted in his seat. 

“I’m proposing a deal.”

Jill straightened up at this, eyes widening just a fraction, but ears perking up for the curious thing her rabbit could possible want. He never propositioned a deal before. In fact, he never really initiated a conversation with her unless he had to. Saying she was eager to hear what he could want was embarrassing to say the least and she’d be damned if she allowed Keith to notice. He didn’t.

“Go on.”

Keith swallowed. “ _While_ we do this work, I’ll answer some questions, but only if you answer them _truthfully_. I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t even attempt it.”

“You sure about that, Rabbit?” Jill quipped. He refused to budge, his jaw set and eyes hard. The proposition sounded more than easy, but one thing Jill thought of is how deep the questions could possibly develop. She could lie easy, she could switch the topic like no one’s problem, but a part of her wondered if Keith really _can_ see through her lies.

‘No.’ She thought. ‘Don’t be silly. He couldn’t possibly know me that well.’ For some reason, a part of her thought otherwise and told her not to make a deal, not to allow him to possibly get that close. Why was she even felt prickled by worry? What could Keith Smith, _normal, goody two-shoes_ possibly do? She won’t allow him to stay from her- at least not for long- and she already has a bad rep. What could some extra darkness to her name do? She took a breath.

“Alright then. I agree.”

Keith, looking smug that he actually got her to agree, smiled cheekily. “Good.”

She scoffed.

Keith and her went back and forth with questions and they found a crooked ground where they could do the work and answer questions. The two had to write about the characters variations and symbolisms/comparisons between the movie and the book and, despite the yawns that crawled up their throats and filled their lungs and the multiple attempts to get them to swerve from the work, they both felt pretty content so far. After a while, Keith asked to go to the bathroom. Jill looked up from her notebook and nodded towards her closed door with a yawn.

“Right over beside my room. Don’t go in the room across from it though.”

Keith raised a brow as he stood up and stretched with a relieved groan, arms high above his head. “What’s in that room?”

Jill wiggled her fingers towards him and spoke in a high pitched, raspy voice. “The ugly old man that snores in his sleep. You step in his room, you lose your feet!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Nice rhyme.” He said, sarcasm dripping on his words as he left her room. Before he closed the bathroom door, he heard her laugh and call out, “Thank you! It was improv!”

Jill sat their for a bit, glanced over their work. She was rambunctious, fierce, and hated the thought of growing up like a wild animal hates to see a weapon in their territory, but she figured that she might as well make the shitty project worth her time so both of them would get the points.

‘200 points to sickness. Woo.’ She scoffed mentally. She sneezed just as Keith walked back into the room and he stopped at the doorway and tilted his head.

“You’re still sick?”

She sniffled and rubbed her nose, far from looking like a delicate lady. “No shit.”

He’d known her long enough to not be so bothered by her cursing, but it didn’t mean it still didn’t cause him to hold his tongue and tell her not to. Last time he’d done that, she made sure to list off every possible curse word in a monologue to him. It was long and by the end of it, he was pale to the bone and was sure his heart would stop soon. He shifted and put his weight on one leg so his hip popped.

Crossing his arms, he asked, “Do you want tea?”

She furrowed her brows at him, squinting like someone aimed a flashlight in her eyes. “Sorry, pal, but this house isn’t one for tea.” Lip upturned and revulsion stewing in her eyes, he had to hold himself from stepping back with a dramatic gasp.

“Have you ever even _tried_ tea?”

“No, and I don’t want to. That shit smells gross.”

“What tea did you try?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want any.” Jill swore that Keith looked like he was sulking after that. In the back of his mind he made a mental note that he’ll find a tea that’ll suit Jill Bird’s taste one day, be it Black Tea or Jasmine Tea.

“Alright, alright, fine.” He took a step back and glanced down the hallway. “Um,” He looked back at her. “Do you want me to make you soup?”

“No bowls. Remember the sink?”

“Oh… Right. Of course.” He sighed and decided to drop the conversation. He might bring soup next time he comes here. He doesn’t like Jill, but he was taught better than to leave someone sick without even attempting to help them. Stepping more into the room, he closed her bedroom door, and walked over to his seat again. He looked over their work and Jill commented that they were doing pretty well and questioned how he could possibly do this type of work every day without losing concentration.

Keith scoffed and replied, “It’s not that hard to stay concentrated. I don’t really have anything to do anyways.” Jill looked him over and shrugged in understanding before going silent once more. “Hey, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you hate the thought of growing up so much?”

Jill leaned back on her hands, one foot propped up on the edge of the bed. She hummed before drawling her words out like he’d asked her what 1+1 was. “Why do you want to grow up so much?”

“I asked you first.”

Jill sighed and flopped back on the bed with her hands on her stomach, feet on the ground, and hair splayed all around her head. “It’s just annoying.” She said, staring up at the ceiling for a second before her eyes fluttered shut. “When you grow up, you lose your freedom. You get stuck with responsibilities, emotions ruling over you one after the other and making an adventurous day a drag. When you’re a kid, you don’t have to worry about any of that. You don’t have anxiety over mess-ups and you don’t get pestered with annoying adults. The only good thing about being a teenager is the fact that, now, I’m in middle ground. I can run around town wherever I want, whenever I want. I can live life to the fullest. I could care less about school. It’s not my #1 importance. Growing up is an overall annoyance and, if I could, I would make sure that growing up was a thing kid’s didn’t need.” She sat up quick, eyes flashing open with a wide grin that startled Keith. She looked so peaceful, he almost forgot how sudden she could be. “Why, I’d be the Queen of my own island!” She jumped up and stood on the bed, chest out with hands on her hips. “Jill Bird would be told throughout all of this damn town! Well, more than I am now at least. I’d be a leader among- among, uh…”

“Your own band of Lost Boys.” The words came out of Keith’s mouth before he could control it and he hushed a gasp, mouth closing with a click. Jill looked down at him curiously, but it swept away into a large grin.

“Yeah!” She agreed in a cheer. “Just me and my kids, going around on adventures every day and every night with no one to tell us what to do.” She huffed at her proud vision.

In the back of her mind, she felt different than what she showed. Something inside her stirred with fear, the urge to run away from the very thought of the island she pictured. It was a hushed voice in the back of her mind that told her she didn’t want any of that, she didn’t want that land of tricks. It was a stupid thought really, so she shrugged it off.

Keith, on the hand, held a stranger shift at her words. He felt his heart pump against his ribs, sudden excitement swimming through his veins at imagining the lush land of green and the scent of the woods and the salty sea filling his nostrils. His breathing shook and his eyes dilated with adrenaline as he imagined the sounds of victorious crows filling the air and shadows dancing on the trees. Jill looked down and tilted her head. Going down to stand on the floor in front of him, she flicked his forehead, effectively snapping the image away from him and he wasn’t sure if the spark of annoyance came from her flicking him or the image being ripped from him. Maybe it came from both.

“Hey,” She called out. “Stop that, you creep. You were acting weird. You better not be planning to steal my island, otherwise I'd have to cut you up and feed you to the mermaids.” Keith looked up at her and leaned as far back as possible in the seat. He brought a hand up to forehead and rubbed it causing her to roll her eyes. “Like that hurt.” She muttered and sat down on the bed again.

“No need to flick me…” He grumbled. A part of him reached for the image again, but he shook it away in place of directing himself to answer his side of the question. A deal’s a deal after all. “You asked me why I wanted to grow up, right?” Jill nodded, so he continued. He saw a glance of pure interest in her eyes before it was shadowed by a lazy smirk and half lidded eyes. “Well… It’s… When we grow up, we get so much more benefits.” He ignored her snort. “Think about it, we can make our own money from doing what we like to do! We can learn so many new things and travel _anywhere_ we want. We get to meet new people and not breaking the law isn’t that hard.” He looked over Jill’s posture, tried to find a trace of something that showed an interest in her growing up. All that she gave him was a thick layer of disinterest and zero chance of saying anything positive about aging. He sighed, giving up. “Still not into growing up?”

“Not one bit.” She answered not a second later. With a roll of her shoulders, she leaned forwards so her elbows sat on her thighs. “Still sounds stupid. Just experience stuff now.”

“ _Laws,_ Jill, those are a thing.”

“Hey,” She spoke, snapping her fingers and pointing at him. “You don’t say anything, I won’t say anything.”

Keith pursed his lips and shook his head. He should’ve known better than think she could possibly change with just a few words.

After that, Keith pushed them back into working much to Jill’s displeasure. They continued trading questions back and forth and, for once, it wasn’t so filled with random banter that what he’d expected. Jill stayed surprisingly adamant on fulfilling her side of the deal and she even went as far as backtracking him to the question so she could answer. She had moments that she looked so deep into the work, he was hesitant to say anything. If he stayed silent for too long though, she’d call out to him. More than a handful of times, Jill’s whole body jumped from a particularly violent sneeze and he was sure to get her some soup next time. He didn’t delve into any deep information about her and she didn’t ask him anything that could lead to any awkward silence. Keith could’ve almost said that they worked professionally, but Jill couldn’t help but ask several sudden sexual questions that left him a stammering, red faced mess.

(“No, Jill, I refuse to tell you my-my f-f-favorite posi-position!”

“Tsk. I bet you’re a virgin. That’s alright. You’ll learn soon. I’ll give you personal lesso-”

“Jill!”)

Finally, Keith glanced out her window and noticed the sky darkening. Turning his seat and cracking his back, he heaved a sigh. Jill looked up from her copy of the book and glanced out the window. Heaving a yawn, she grinned crookedly.

“Gonna leave me so soon, Princess?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “God, _please_ don’t add that as my new nickname. I’d rather keep Rabbit.”

“Oh ho,” She snickered and waggled her eyebrows, leaning forward. “So you _do_ like the nickname I gave you.”

“Not one bit.” He spoke bluntly. She chuckled and leaned back, taking the papers and books off her lap and setting them beside her. As Keith packed his stuff into his bag and nudged his shoes back on, she stood and stretched with a loud sigh of a moan. Did she do it purposefully to make it sound as sexual as possible? Yes. Did she get the reaction of Keith glancing up at her in annoyance at knowing she did it on purpose? Yes. She smiled innocently though and Keith stood and put the backpack on with a snort. Pushing her chair under the desk, he walked to her bedroom door, Jill right behind him.

“Make sure to finish the outline of the conclusion alright? I’ll write one also, so that way we can find a common ground with our words and stuff and-”

“Yes, Mr. Smith. I hear ya’ loud and clear.” She raised a brow, a frown hinting at the corners of her mouth. His mouth close with a huff and he nudged his glasses up his nose.

“Well alright then. Is it alright if I come back again?”

She nodded. “Yeah- wait.” Rubbing the back of her head, she glanced above his head in thought. “Actually, tomorrow won’t do. I have stuff to do.”

Keith’s features immediately fell into worry and obvious discomfort at the thought of her doing anything proactive. “What could you possible need to do? Earlier, Amella told me that too actually. You need to rest, Jill.”

“Be careful,” She warned and winked, stepping around him to open her bedroom door. “I might just think you care for me.”

“Jill-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She cut him off and put a hand on his back to push him out of her room. “It’s a small thing, not that big an issue that your pretty little head needs to worry over.” Keith looked her over, from her still red-tipped nose to the tired look in her eyes. She looked fragile, but he knew she was far from it.

“Alright…” He spoke slowly and gained a nod of thanks for dropping the topic. “How about Sunday then? I can come around again at the same time?”

Jill paused and glanced up in though, a hum reverberating in her chest. Finally, she nodded and winked. “Come earlier and we might just add some actual _fun_ to the schedule, hm?”

Keith sighed and shook his head as he walked past her and to the front door. He heard her door click close and didn’t even bother to look behind him since she apparently didn’t follow.

“Have a good night, Jill!” He called from behind him and he heard the faint “You too” through her door before he left her apartment. He glanced at his phone as he was walking to the elevator and pressed the button. As he waited, he ran over how much work they were able to surprisingly get down through the day. It was much more work they could’ve went over than the time the periods in school gave. He hummed a tune, eerie and dreamlike, but a tune that played in his head whenever he was alone. Keith never did know where it came from, but he didn’t think much of it. Jill turned out to be easier to talk to than he first expected in the morning and he learned quite a bit about her as she did him. She likes blue and black, anything bitter/spicy tasting, she's naturally free spirited, and she’d like to own her own island where there are apparently mermaids and pirates.

Before he could think about his reaction to the image of shadows dancing into the night, the elevator chimed and he waited for people to step out. It was only one; a stern looking man with wrinkles at the corner of his mouth, eyebrows lowered naturally in a disapproving glare, and black hair gelled back. He wore a black suit with a gray undershirt, his hands large and a silver watch wrapped around his wrist. Keith shivered at the cold air that surrounded the man, but he quickly stepped into the elevator and watched as the man took large steps. Just before the elevator door closed, Keith saw the man glance at him before entering the apartment.

It was later on when he was on the bus, trying not to snooze away, that he realize Jill looked nothing like the man and the person looked far too old to be an ally of Jill's. That had to be the guardian she detested so much then. A part of him felt a sense of dread that he left her alone. Why would he though? Maybe the guy just had a bad day, maybe that’s why he looked at Keith with such disgust. Then again, he didn’t exactly feel very accepting to people.

‘She should be fine, right?’ He debated with himself. ‘He didn’t look caring, but I can’t judge a book by it’s cover… Right?’ In the back of his mind, a voice hissed threateningly, but he shoved it away. ‘Yeah.’ He concluded, white knuckled fists on top of his bag on his lap. ‘She’ll be fine. I have work to do. She’ll be fine. She was probably just being dramatic. She hated being told what to do and… Yeah. It’s gonna be ok.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the story's alive. (*´◡`)  
> I actually went back over and re-read this whole thing and I've been making a planning sheet to keep track of events, what's going down, their personalities, and what'll happen in later chapters. For those who are still reading this story despite me not updating it in so long and actually liking it still, thank you very much. (灬ºωº灬)  
> I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas and if you aren't, I hope at least one good thing will happen to you guys, either finding a good movie to watch or just some good food. Until next chapter! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	4. What Welfare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From: Amella-Ass  
> To: Jill  
> Alright. Don’t die on me.

After Keith left, Jill put her papers away, setting them on the corner of her desk. She laid for only several moments, eagle spread on the bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing but what she’d do tomorrow and urging her body to get better-- otherwise, she’d be a goner for sure. The front door slammed for a second time and with a confused grunt, she sat up and promptly went to check on what could’ve made the noise. There was light shuffling when she opened her door and she took light steps walking down her small hallway. She froze. Out of all the people she would have chosen to see in her shelter, either a burglar or even some homeless person, she didn’t expect to see her adopter. He was untying his shoes on the couch, hunched over and having yet to notice her frozen form. Out of all the things that she could possibly loath more, out of all the _people_ she wanted to watch scream in agony, it was the very man who took her under his wing. She took a step back, hoping to go back to her room where she could lock the door and be silent as a mouse. She even made sure her breathing was slow and shortened, but it was too late. He looked up from his shoes and they made eye contact. She froze once more. One breath…. Two… He looked back down with a grunt and went back to untying his last shoe.

“Are you going to say ‘hello’ or what?” He leaned back and nudged his shoes off, arms splayed on top of couch. Dark eyes bore into brown ones. The air crackled around them with a silent storm screaming in warning of the predators waiting for the other to make a move. She took a shaking breath from the adrenaline coursing through her veins like a racecar at a yellow light.

“H-Hi.” She whispered, the edges of her words scrawled warily.

“Louder.” A growl laced his tone and she barely would’ve noticed the crinkle between his brows if it weren’t for how close she was watching his features. “Be. _Louder_.” Then again, when wasn’t she always cautious around him.

“Hi.” She spoke louder. He made a noise of approval and leaned over to pick up his shoes. As he stood with the shoes hooked on thick fingers, he looked over towards Jill who was waiting for the moment she could turn her heels and escape to her room. Seconds passed by, but just as she was about to reach second 8, the person spoke(she refused to call him _father-_ he doesn’t _deserve_ it, he doesn’t, he doesn’t, he just _doesn’t_ ).

“I saw a boy in the hallway. He had a school bag.” His words slithered along and she waited for him to speak more, but at the silence she simply nodded.

“O… Ok.”

He took a step around the coffee table and her shortened breath hitched, stance bristling. “How many times?”

“What?” It was a miracle her voice had yet to jump along her forced words. His eyes, trained on hers, keeping her in place, darkened with steadily growing ire.

“How many times must you bring another quick _fuck_ to my home?”

Gaping at his words, growing contempt burned at the edges of her control and sanity. “ _Excuse_ me?” She dared and his eyes flashed at her tone. With another step forward, Jill's body immediately took a step back. A glance down at her feet was all it took to ignite the venom on his tongue.

“You damn well heard me. How many more times are you gonna make me go through this talk? Do you love to piss me off this much? Do you think I _love_ being mad and _screaming_ at you?” He took another step forward and she took another step back. A pained look sliced his features, but she refused to accept it. She knew it was fake. She knew, because he always did this when she was younger, weaker-- smaller. He pretended she was the bad guy and made the guilt flood her heart before she put herself on a lifeboat made of apologies and fear of being kicked out. Jill forced herself to grow up though; she forced the pieces of her heart to be buried in the darkest corner of the little land that was left of her gentle nature and she’ll be damned if she fell for his spineless act. “Honey, I’m so tired. I want you to be happy. I want you to just listen to me, just once.”

“Bull. Shit.” She spat through her teeth. Just as she realized her mistake and immediately turned to run, she felt a bruising grip throwing her to the ground, a yelp racing up from her throat.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!” She barely had time to see clearly through the dizziness before there was a fierce kick at her side, a breathless screech flying from blood red lips. “Must you always, _always_ fight me? I do my best! I _work_ ! And what do _you do_ ? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Why do I even put up with you? Hurting me, thinking of me as some _charity case_ , speaking towards me like I’m some meaningless _friend_!” For every scream that had a kick bruising her ribs, stomach, and arms, her consciousness drifted in and out. By the time his strident screams finally leveled to a hush, she was painfully awake, just barely, and she wondered sardonically why she couldn’t have just passed out by the second hit. Like before, he avoided hitting her face, but his merciless kicks had left her bones burning, her throat dry, and large blotches of purple on her roughened skin.

She laid there like a broken marionette, her body screaming at her to just stay still, let him finish talking, finish hurting her. It wasn’t like she could find the energy to focus her eyes, much less move her legs. She heard stomping and a room door slamming, leaving her in the soundless hallway. She was alone.

* * *

 

“Oh, m’ baby girl, ’m so sorry. Baby girl, please wake up, please, _please_.”

With a hitched breath, her eyes opened. When did she fall asleep? Why couldn’t she have _stayed_ asleep?

“Baby girl, ’m so sorry. You jus’ made me so, so _mad_ and I-”

She was in someone’s arms. They were… Cradling her? Their voice seemed to hold a thick sense of regret, stumbling over breaths, and tears which could explain the wetness on her shoulder. Without even speaking, she knew her throat was unuseable. Nausea invaded her senses, a thick scent of beer clouding around her and sticking onto the drunkard of a guardian mollycoddling her. She grunted and realized then the feeling of cooling bandages wrapped around her arms and her middle half.

An amazed gasp beside her ear added along with a tightened grip that left her groaning in pain. They didn’t loosen, but instead the drunkard cheerfully spoke. “Jill!” He held her to his chest, nuzzling the top of her head. She truly wished for the mercy of going back to sleep. “Oh, Jill! Thank _god_ y’ ‘wake! I don’ know what I would’ve done!” She knew those words weren’t filled with ideas for her. “’m sorry for hittin’ y’, honey. Jus’ don’ make me mad anymore alright? Papa wants y’ safe, bu’ if y’ make papa mad, he’ll really bruise y’ up.” It was when he picked her up that she realized he fixed her up in the hallway. He walked towards and allowed himself into her room, drawliing on with slurred words that seemed to swing into the other. “Le’s get you to bed, honey. Y’ need t’ sleep some more, but you stopped breathing just as I finished and I got really worried f’ y’.”

When he got to her room, her dropped her none too softly on the bed and promptly tucked her. She hissed when he ended up jabbing her side none too gently, but if he noticed, he didn’t show. With a pat on her head, he garbled, “Now jus’ stay here ‘nd sleep like a good girl.” and left her room, the door slamming closed behind him.

She laid there for a bit, listened to anything that could hint his comeback into her room. By the five minute mark, she started to sit up. Jill’d be damned if she allowed myself to sleep in the same home as the drunkard who beat her till she stopped breathing in her sleep. Her body still clawed at her mind to just lay down and sleep, but the pain was lessened-- or numbed-- due to the cooling pads, so it made sitting up bearable to her stubbornness. When she was able to stand herself up, quivering limbs with aching muscles and all, she unsteadily walked over to her drawer and took out a leather jacket and switched into jeans instead of shorts. Jill quickly locked the door and stumbled to the window with ragged breaths. As she opened it silently with one hand, savoring the chilly breeze of Autumn, she grabbed her phone off her desk with her free hand. Refusing to give even one last glance at the door, she climbed out onto her fire escape and closed her window. She typed on her phone as she walked down the few flights of stairs.

 

To: Amella-Ass

From:Jill

Hey, I’m going to your house.

 

She knew Amella would be alright with it. This wasn’t the first time this type of situation occurred. Not five minutes later, a message popped up.

 

From: Amella-Ass

To: Jill

Want me to pick you up or do you think you can make it??

 

Jill paused when she reached the last level of the fire escape and looked down at the small opening where a ladder hung. As she started to climb down, phone shoved into her pocket, she had to pause in her decent, heaving out a groan as she felt her muscles burn under the cooling bandages. When she got to the ground, she sighed and took out her phone, dark bags under her eyes and a small furrow to her brows.

 

To: Amella-Ass

From: Jill

Pick me up at the bus stop like usual.

 

From: Amella-Ass

To: Jill

Alright. Don’t die on me.

 

To: Amella-Ass

From: Jill

Don’t tell me what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was actually a tad harder to write since I expected cause, as much as I love to write painful scenes with the attempt to tear at people's heart, I also gotta set myself to some restraints and fitting myself into that person's emotions. (*´_ゝ｀) I also wanted to try doing a little excerpt through Jill's perspective. Mhm, mhm
> 
> B~ut anywho, get ready for the return of Amella and Ceann's return next chapter! *:ﾟ*｡⋆ฺ(*´◡`)


	5. Pick Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hard as is being one of two people who could calm Jill from a fight, but if Ceann didn’t stand by her, then she had no choice but to step back.

Silence enveloped itself inside the dark allies of the buildings and a cold wind swept by. The only noise that occurred were Jill’s staggering steps and ragged breathing, occasionally the sound of some alley cats meowed by. She tried to distract herself with thoughts of any topic to avoid noticing her muscles tensing against the chill under the bandages. It only took her a short while to notice that it was completely dark, save for the lamps illuminating the road and the frequent cars flying by with blinding headlights. Taking out her phone, she glanced down at the time.

“11:49? Fucking hell.” She clicked her tongue and shoved the phone back in her pocket, grunting in annoyance. “Damn bastard just _had_ to beat me to kingdom come today of all days.”

After a few small breaks to catch her breath, she finally reached the bus stop and smoothly laid herself down on the bench, a relieved sigh shakily slipping past her lips. The bus stop only had a sign stating what it was and the times the bus would come, but the rusting metal of the bench didn’t have a cover to hold out rain or sleet. Thankfully, the night sky was clear of any clouds, but filled with stars and the bench chilled her sides. It was a view that Jill would be more than happy to take in while she waited.

It should be only a few more minutes before Amella and Ceann came, so she was left with the battery of her phone dying and leaving her savoring the view. Her mind drifted into itself, worn out from the walk from the apartment and then there was the fact she was still sick. Maybe it was because she was just too apathetic to care or maybe it was the fact she was alone, but Jill couldn’t help but think it was nice to talk with Keith for the day. Regardless of the fact they had to do actual schoolwork, it was nice to know he couldn’t run from her. When her body is fully healed, she’ll hunt him down, but for now, she just wanted move to a minimum. Then there was the hints of worry every time he glanced at her when she sneezed and sniffled, occasionally there’d be an “Are you ok?” when she coughed. Jill snorted. He was such a worry wort.

Her vision blurred when she stared up at the moon, the second star to the right blinking at her. Eyes closed, her body relaxed further, her mind lulling into a daze. For whatever reason, she imagined the island where victory crows were lifted into the air and shadows danced along the trees, twisting, turning. A bonfire burned strong in the center of a camp and sent embers flying into the night. There was a pirate with a hook for a hand who smirked at her, his ship rocking in mermaid filled waters. A leader clad in green grinned at her sharp as needles. He held out his hand. She couldn’t see his face.

“I was looking for you, bird.”

_HONK, HONK_

Jill startled awake. When did she fall asleep? She sat up with a groan, a hand rubbing her forehead and moving the hair out of her face, and she scrunched her nose at the cold sweat that thinly coated her.

_HONK_

“Damn, Jill, hurry up already and get in the car!” Screamed a male voice.

Jill looked to the side and saw a green truck, the passenger window rolled down with Ceann staring at her playfully and Amella leaning forward over the wheel, glowering at her.

“It’s cold, Jill! If you don’t hurry up and get in the truck, I’ll drive off! Don’t think I won’t.” As if to prove her point, Amella tapped on the gas, slowly rolling the car forward until stopping it again.

Jill grinned, stood up, and walked over towards the truck. She didn’t ‘think’ Amella wouldn’t drive away for her, she knew for _a fact_ Amella wouldn’t drive away from her. Despite what Amella could say, Jill knew that her dear cousin wouldn’t have driven all the way to pick her up if she didn’t care. Hopping in the back and slamming the door shut, Amella rolled the window up. Jill laid on the back seat, behind Amella, one leg bent up on the seat and the other on the floor. It was so cozy in the truck, heat prickling at her flushed cheeks and warming her hands.

Amella glanced over at her before she started to pull away from the curb. Ceann turned in his seat, half-lidded eyes roving over Jill’s form. Jill looked at Ceann and noticed the burning hatred brimming on his features; from this way his mouth twisted at the side to the way his brows met at a crease in the middle.

“How bad was it this time?” He drawled, ending with the sharpness of a blade. Ceann never hid the fact that he had an animosity on the subject of Jill’s excuse of a guardian. He hated that oaf from the very beginning and would gladly kill him if he was able too.

Jill rolled her shoulders and her sides burned when she curled into herself a bit. There was only so much room in the back seat. “Bruised to hell midsection. I tried to defend myself while I was on the floor, but he ended up bruising my arms. I passed out and woke up to him drunkenly slobbering over me, apologizing and telling me he bandaged me up- which he did- but it was all bloody disgusting is what it all was.” She scoffed and her eyelids felt heavy, so she leaned her head in the corner between the window and the seat.

Amella clicked her tongue in the driver's seat, narrowing her eyes at the road. “Damn that man. Are you still gonna fight tomorrow?” She glanced at Jill through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jill.”

Jill chuckled. “You think I don’t know that?”

Amella frowned. “It’s just that you’re too beat up. Ex-counting your wounds, one punch to the head and you’re down for the count most likely.”

Jill forced her eyes to open and lolled her head on the window to look at the rearview mirror. They stopped at a red light and Amella met her eyes through it. “I love your belief in me, dear cousin.” Jill dryly replied. “I’ll win the fight. It’ll be in the clearing in the woods like usual. There’ll be a circle of people and whoever I’ll fight and I will be in the center liker _usual._ And I’ll win _like usual_.” Her tone hardened with each word, eyes cold with determination.

“Then we might just finally have enough money to leave the town.” Ceann ended. Pride brimmed on his features with a hint of a smirk.

Jill looked at him with a sharp grin. “We’ll be free.”

Amella pursed her lips and continued driving, looking forward. She couldn’t say much anymore. Ceann has been her boyfriend for about a year now and she knew that he loved her, but she knew that, since he met Jill first, his loyalty for her more than always trumped over herself. It was hard as is being one of two people who could calm Jill from a fight, but if Ceann didn’t stand by her, then she had no choice but to step back.

Her shoulders fell. “Alright. Fine.” Jill threw a thumbs-up at her through the mirror, but Amella quickly added, “But the second I see you about to faint, we’re out. Be mad all you want, you already know how ruthless those fights are. The hits won’t stop until the ref says so.”

Amella  heard both Ceann and Jill chuckle at one another before Ceann turned towards her. He patted the fist on her lap just barely shaking. “It’s alright, 'Mella.” He turned towards Jill and in a smooth drawl, stated. “The Bird never fails.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Don't be mad for such a small chapter, please!  
> I am in fact continuing this, but the only problem as of right now is that it's test month in my school, so it's been test after test like no one's business. (Free me from this flesh prison) That, and there's a lot of things going down at my home- one of which there's been a lot of fights. But, uh, yeah! Sorry for the small chapter, but I hope you guys have a good day (or night)! 8D
> 
> (This also wasn't proof read, sorry)


	6. Loyalty and Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just believe in me! I’ll be ok, but I’m making sure you get outta here first! Now, go!”

_ “Try as you might, WendyBird, but you can’t run that far from me. Come on. Have some fun! “ _

_ Her feet ached, dirt stuck between her toes and even perhaps a few splinters stuck in her skin. She had to run though, she had to! Damn her if she’d let that monstrous boy get a hold of her! Her hair was a tangled mess and she swore she was going to cut it all off if it was the reason she was caught. Her lungs burned and each forced breath raked the inside of her throat. _

“Jill. Hey. Jill.”

“ _ COME ON OUT TO PLAY, WENDYBIRD!” _

“No!” Jill shot up from leaning up onto the window, colliding her head to Amella’s.

“Ow! Shit! Chill out, Jill, what the hell?!” Amella leaned back and rubbed her aching forehead that quickly turned red from the force.

Jill whimpered and heaved a groan, lowering her head to caress her own forehead. She hissed out a curse and sighed before looking back at Amella. “Sorry, sorry.” She apologized halfheartedly.

“It’s fine.” Amella grumbled. “It’s just gonna bruise in the morning.”

“It’s not that bad. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“A queen acts as a queen chooses to be.”

The dry humor incurred nothing but a blank stare dripping with disgust towards twinkling green eyes. “... Ok.”

After a bit more bickering consisting of dry humor, pained groans, and a cackling Amella, the two were inside of an apartment complex and inside of Amella’s apartment. Like Jill last remembered it, the furniture mostly consisted of flower patterns, a few plants hanging up beside the balcony doors, and of course, a consisting neatness. The colors were light and not too overbearing, but just enough to be aesthetically pleasing. Jill wasn’t surprised to see that the walls were a recently re-painted light green, but thankfully for Amella it fit nicely with the furniture that mixed in light browns, simple white, and gold. 

The door closed behind Amella, and a drawled voice spoke out. “Hey, Bird.”

Jill gravitated towards the living room pull-out couch and called back to Ceann who poked his head out of the kitchen. “What’s up?”

“Hungry?”

Jill took a pause to think, but just as she opened her mouth to say ‘No.’, Amella had beat her to the punch, hands on her hips. “She is.”

Jill glared over at Amella who simply glared back; but again, just as Jill was about to speak up for herself, Amella beat her to it. “I bet you haven’t been eating much of anything and, if you had, it’s been nothing but microwavable soup and bits of leftovers. At least eat something before you fall back asleep. Please. Just get some energy.”

Jill shut her mouth and scowled over at Ceann who pursed his lips through Amella’s verbal finger waggle. He looked between his dagger staring girlfriend and his best friend who looked more than ready to jump across to the coffee table towards him. “Uh…”

“Go make some food, Ceann.” Amella hissed out.

“Got it.” And with that, he slipped back into the kitchen.

Jill grunted and laid down on the couch, hands folded on top of her stomach. After a few moments of hearing Ceann rustle around in the kitchen, clanging a pan on the stove, opening a fridge, laying some things out on a counter, and closing the fridge, Jill realized that the silence was getting annoying and Amella was still standing in front of the door.

“What?” She bit out.

Amella looked Jill over and shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a bit… Anxious about you…You know, fighting.” She confessed hesitantly, careful of her words and trying to convey them in a way that won’t offend the pride sensitive bird.

Jill stared at her with disregard.

“I mean, I’m not trying to offend you, I swear, but are you sure you don’t wanna at least push the fight back a day or two?”

Silence.

“You’re still really hurt, Jill, and-”

“You’re still  _ on  _ this topic?” Jill was stunned. Absolutely stunned! She thought that her cousin had moved on from this worry in the car before she fell asleep. She thought the topic was done and over with and brought her thoughts up to the very source of bundled worry herself. If she wasn’t so lethargic, Jill would’ve shot up from her position on the couch.

“Naturally, yes.” Amella was starting grow a bit more backbone, Jill was sure of it. In fact, Amella went as far as straightening up, hands stuffed into her jacket. She scuffed the carpet with her foot and stood up with a hip popped off to the side. “Sue me for worrying about your health, dear cousin.”

Jill stared at her a bit longer, eyes burning with her trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Honestly, she didn’t have the energy anymore to get mad or to snap or to even make a witty comeback. In the end, she just heaved a long, drawn out sigh, and leaned her head back onto the couch throw pillow and waved a hand at Amella offhandedly. “I’m fighting tomorrow.” She stated, “Chill out.”

Amella’s eye twitched at being waved at so offhandedly. Just as her indignance prickled, Jill brought her head up, eyes twinkling with interest and Amella raised a brow at what made her so suddenly excited. She made a show of of a stuffy sniff; once… Twice. She licked her lips to avoid drooling at the delicious scent in the air and she realized she was probably loads hungrier than she expected, her stomach gurgling noisily. Quickly, practically reflexively, she smacked a hand on top of her stomach and quickly glared at Amella, warning her. The damage had been done though. Amella heard it like a victory bell and grinned. Jill fought away the flush trying to cover her cheeks. Amella crossed her arms and openly smirked, raising a brow. “Guess I was right about  _ one _ thing, huh, Jill~.” Jill hated the way Amella purred her name.

“Stop caressing my name like that, you creep.” She snarked off.

Amella snickered and went to go sit at the other side of the couch just as Jill sat up slowly. Ceann came back with a plate of sunny side up eggs and two hot dogs with ketchup on the side.

“Ceann, you beautiful saint, you.” Jill cheered and dramatically clapped her hands, rubbing them together.

Ceann chuckled and handed her the plate with a fork. “Figured you’d want something easy enough on your stomach. Not sure when you last ate, but knowing you, it was nearly eight hours ago or somethin’.”

Jill greedily took the food and shrugged. Shoving half an egg into her mouth, she spoke blasé through her chewing, commenting,”Yeah, probably. I don’t remember.” She heard a ‘tsk’ on the other side of the couch before someone gently smacked her foot. Looking over, Amella was chuckling and playfully remarked, “Geez, Jill, close your mouth. If I find a piece of chewed up egg on my nice carpet, I’ll throw you down myself in that circle.”

Jill rolled her eyes and held back just openly chewing on the food and staring at Amella dead in the eye. She imagined Amella screaming at her, eyes wide and gaping. Her cousin’s hand might even twitch on her lap. She was sure Amella would be ready to jump across the couch and slam her mouth shut, cracking a few teeth in the process. ‘Hm… That’d be a nice reaction.’  She thought to herself, sniggering at the imagery. She glanced at Amella in the corner of her eyes and noticed her cousin squinting at her in suspicion. ‘Good.’

Ceann sat on a small, pastel blue one-seater sofa. He tilted his head at Jill and looked at his girlfriend. Despite his unrelenting loyalty towards Jill, it was true he loved Amella. It was actually through Jill that he met his girlfriend. First, it started off with simply seeing Amella as a “faceless protector” as Jill describer her cousin. When Jill and him were spray painting a teacher’s car, her phone vibrated and before Jill could even bring one word into the conversation, there was a scream of, “ _ Where are you? _ ” There’d be instances here and there later on where he didn’t really like how Amella killed the fun. Of course, he kept his opinions from Jill. Amella was her cousin in the end. Finally he saw the “faceless protector” in a green car, picking him and Jill up from school. She was beautiful, he gave her that, but he kept his distance. It didn’t take long for the spunky girl to catch his eyes with her suggestive jokes, playful teasings, and overall gentleness hidden under constant worry and rational anger. He smiled at Amella and hadn’t noticed how long he was staring until she looked over.

“You want something?” She quirked an amused brow and he snapped out of it.

“No, I’m good,” He quickly responded and sat back in the seat. 

“You sure ‘bout that? Aw, are you perhaps thinking something dirty? Gosh, Ceann!” Amella made a show of covering her body and laughed at Jill’s groan.

“You both are nasty. Bloody he-”

A raspy cough violently surged into the playful atmosphere. Jill hunched over her food, elbow over her mouth. The coughs rattled her body, attacking her from the inside out as Amella helped with quickly rubbing her back, Ceann straightened and alert. After a few moments, Jill calmed down and hissed a curse from the burn it left on the inside of her throat. She heaved some labored breaths to calm her heart and ease the burning of bruises when she moved so suddenly.

“Shit, you’re still sick?” Amella gaped and just gently rubbed Jill’s back. “I thought you got better!”

“Guess not.” Jill scratched out and winced at her voice. She drank some water as Amella shook her head.

“Jill, you are  _ not  _ physically capable of fighting right now. Not now. Come on, just push it back a couple days, at least push it back two!” Amella’s pleads were met with a shrug. God, why was her cousin so stubborn! “You’re sick.  _ And _ your body is beaten ragged right now, Jill.” Amella snarled, pushing again. “You are in no way fit to fight! Push the fight back!

The cup slamming on the coffee table resonated past Amella’s continuous pleads. “No.” Jill snarled back, darkness curling into her voice. Ceann inhaled sharply at her tone and Amella quickly retracted her hand. “Do not, I repeat, do not  _ ever _ tell me what to do. You stay in your goddamn lane, Amella, and you damn well look straight ahead. If I want to fight, I will damn well fight. We already agreed that the second I’m down for the count, you can take me out, but don’t you ever order me around like some  _ pet. _ ”

Amella pursed her lips. Defiant emeralds glaring into dark pools of brown. After a few tense moments, Amella looked away and bit out a, “Fine.” Before getting up and going into a separate room and slamming the door shut.

Jill watched her go off, sighed in half-hearted annoyance, and bit off a hotdog. “Being too damn nosy.” She grumbled out through her chewing. After a few moments, there was noise again.

“She’s just worried.” Came a weary voice.

Jill looked to the side, eyes widening a bit. She freezed midbite. She’d almost forgotten Ceann was there honestly. She must be more tired than anything, shit. Then again Ceann is usually quiet, it won’t be hard to forget he was there, but that was her  _ best friend. _ She should’ve remembered the lanky boy was right beside her!

Ceann seemed distracted from the obvious surprise written over Jill’s face. With a straightened back and rolled his shoulders and gestured towards the door. “Amella does want what’s best for you, y’know.” He drawled and chose his words carefully. “It’s hard to fight and tomorrow you’ll be fighting off one of the top fighters. Not to say you aren’t one, but it’ll just be hard with your current condition. Amella knows your speed and agility will be we-... Wonky.” He was lucky to have caught himself. If he dared use that description to Jill, he’d be thrown off the balcony and he knew it. For someone nearly four inches shorter than him, she was strong. Luckily for him, she didn’t even blink at the catch.

Jill shrugged and cut off some eggs. “Yeah, well she can go ahead and keep it to herself. I’ll be fine.” She grunted out and plopped half the egg into her mouth. “She can worry all she wants, I’m still going to go fight.”

Ceann frowned. He took a pause then sighed and stood. If he voiced his own worries, she would only think he was losing belief in her, which was more than unlikely.  “I’m gonna go to sleep. Goodnight, Bird.” Silent steps walked to the closed door that Amella went through, but just as his hand touched the doorknob, her voice called out.

“Ceann.”

He turned his head and looked at her, caution warily hidden under blank features. “Yes?” Did he anger her? Was she about to blow her top?

Instead of what he expected, Jill’s shoulders drooped and she looked towards him with, not anger or defiance, but a cool, collected credence. “Tell her I’ll be alright. I’ll get us that money and we’ll be able to leave this crappy town. I won’t fall. I get that I’m ragged down and I understand that, but I just need you both to believe in me.  _ Both _ of you.” She emphasized. 

Ceann stared at her, slack jawed. How could she be confident?

“Just believe in me.” She repeated. “I’ll be ok, but I’m making sure we get out of here.” She repeated the words she told him when she found him three years ago. 

His parents had kicked him out and moved out of state when he was barely 15. He was a mangy mutt roaming the streets, hiding out in random places from alleys, benches, and even going as far as sleeping on top of buildings. Other days he’d just have a fling and stay there for the night, waking up early, showering real quick, then stealing some money or even a clean shirt if he could find one. Thankfully there are local washers and $1 stores for school supplies. He was also lucky to have strong reflexes and an immune system. But then he met Jill. 

She didn’t have a fling with him despite his teasing remarks of having one, he probably smelled awful since he hadn’t showered for two days straight. She tricked him into coming home with her though, telling him ‘sure’, but in the end she’d pushed him into the shower and demanded that he can’t come out till he took one. She even gave him pajama bottoms that were, thankfully, large and baggy. It was when she set up a pillow and blanket on the floor that night that he realized she was giving him a place to stay. Of course he wasn’t gonna  _ not  _ accept it. But when he got ready for the morning, she woke up earlier than him and made eggs and fed him, told him he could stay there for the next couple days. Days turned to months.

They went to school together, but he would take the fire escape to go up to her room. He wasn’t allowed to explore the home because she was wary of her father coming home and he respected her enough to listen to her warnings. When she did leave on her own, he would usually go with her and when she left on her own, he would be locked in her room doing homework, fiddling with items. When the father came home and forced himself into the room, he would hide under Jill’s bed or outside on the fire escape, then slip back inside when he was sure the coast was clear. He wasn’t ever a fan of Jill’s alleged “guardian”, not even back then. She was clear about her hatred for the older man and he understood real quick as to why when he saw her bruises. Then he met Amella, but it was more of a simply passing “hi” at the time. 

But it was nearly a year and a half later (a surprisingly long time he noted), when Jill was on the floor sleeping and he was curled up on her bed, that the door slammed open. Immediately the two shot up, but it was too late. Jill was able to distract her father from him reaching Ceann and she gave him ability to run, to be safe.

_ “Just believe in me! I’ll be ok, but I’m making sure you get outta here first! Now, go!” _

And he ran. It was a mad dash. He had a pumping heart, and a searing burn coursing through his body, and lungs nearly giving away by the time he found Amella’s apartment. He told her what happened and she nodded and quickly went to the front of Jill’s building. She noticed his fear, so clearly, but rarely shown.

_ “It’s gonna be ok. Jill will be here soon. I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Yo uran before you hunted me down, right?” _

_ He nodded. _

_ “Good job. Proud of ya, man. You’re like her right hand.” She laughed, but he wasn’t sure if she noticed the pride flowing in him. _

_ ‘Right hand?’ He liked the thought of that. _

And Amella was right. They could barely see the glimpse of Jill going down the shoot before the passenger door opened and she threw herself into it.

“ _ Drive, drive!” She screamed. “Let’s get away from this shitty apartment.” She turned around just as they sped away and looked him over. Seeing nearly no mark, but sweat covering him and his flushed cheeks, she smiled brightly. “Glad to see you’re safe!” _

Amella and him got closer after that incident and he swore loyalty to Jill long before it.

Ceann looked over the current Jill, bruised and battered, but having the same glimmer of uncaged ferocity as when she told him to run. He smiled a bit and nodded. “I believe in you, Bird. Always do.”

“That’s good.”

“I’ll talk to Amella, try and change her mind. Goodnight.” He left the living room with belief brimming from his features and closed the door.

Jill watched him go and she felt pride at how quickly she was able to get him on her side again. Ceann was loyal and would believe in her if she just pressed on right. Amella was protective, but she had a heart of gold and a personality of a sneaky vixen. She understood why the two acted as they did, but she needed the money. Jill ate the rest of her food, set the plate onto the coffee table, and laid down on the couch with a groan and a cough.

She was going to get all three of them out of this town if it was the last thing she did. With that thought, she closed her eyes and fell back into the dreams of an adventurous land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Another chapter done! >w


	7. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Well shit…’ Jill whistled lowly. Instead of some old, haggled man with horrendous, yellow stained teeth, an eye patch, and scars, perhaps even a hunchback, she got the complete opposite. The door opened, showing a lean man. Young enough with white pearls for teeth, sharp, blue eyes, and dark scruff over a strong jawline. He also had a hook for a hand. ‘Well fuck me sideways, daddy, how you doin’?’

Jill groaned. Rubbing her head, she squinted, trying to ease her disorientation, back flat on the ground.The first thing she saw above her were trees, a clear sky hinting at a nearing eve. She felt brittle stickiness under her calves, between her toes and her fingers, and she swore it’d be in her hair, along with the sweltering air. Water crashed somewhere, probably about thirty feet at most from her. Her stomach lurched and she shot up, her ribs threatening to expand and release the contents of her stomach from the quick movement. With a sharp hiss, she swiveled her head around her. A beach! How? She was on the couch at Amella’s home. She was asleep. She hoped to all that was unfavorable that this was a dream. It had to be.

Her fingers dug into the sand below, and as she pulled it away, Jill paled at seeing it wisp away in a faint wind, feeling the dusty specks sprinkle around her. It was real. She was too sharp, too intuitive to try and play it off like this was fake.

‘ _How?’_ Was the only word repeating through her head. How did she move? Maybe they picked her up and shipped her? No, that was dumb. What money did they have? And who was even the ‘they’ she was trying to specify? She couldn’t have stayed asleep for too long. Jill knew she was a light sleeper. There had been times along the way of keeping Ceann in her home where he’d woken her up by a movement too loud. Unless… Unless she was drugged. She had to have been drugged to be moved without her knowing, waking up. But who had the chance? Who got close enough to- She froze. _Amella._ Amella had been the last one to feed her and-

‘ _’Stop.’_ A voice intervened in her head. Her rationality speaking up amidst the hurricane of fear and paranoia swirling in her head. ‘ _Amella would never do that. She is your friend, your ally and family. Don’t you dare think otherwise.’_

Jill took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly stood, supporting herself on a tree. She had to think of a plan, something to do. Looking down, she realized she wore a nightgown. Victorian? A ruffled off-white, dirtied with dry mud, stubborn sand, and green markings most likely from the foliage around her. It was as if she running through the forest behind her. It reached just below her knees and, what could’ve been puffy, ridiculously ruffled sleeves, were ripped a bit above her elbows. She felt… Gross. Imagining how put together she probably could’ve looked, with neat hair (that wasn’t a bird’s nest like right now) and a clean frilly nightgown of all things. Hell, all she needed was a big, pretty bow in her hair and people might as well have called her something dumb. Like Sally or Wendy or even Juliet.

“Ohh, Wendybird!” A voice purred not far from her location. She cursed and quickly scaled the tree she’d been leaning on. Lost on a random island or not, no way in hell was she going to trust anything or anyone on this damn place. With her back pressed tightly on the bark, she peered through the branches and leaves, looking everywhere below for some movement.

She hadn’t expected a boy to step out. An adult, sure, but never a boy.

He was somewhere around her age, but what threw her off was how similar he was to her Rabbit, Keith. His turtle glasses were gone, brown hair just a bit messier. Usually he’d never been able to see an inch ahead of him without his glasses. The most unnerving bit about this lookalike was his predatory smirk, filled with dark humor, something she’d typically held herself during vicious fights. He wore a green tunic over broad shoulder, a brown belt wrapped around a narrow waist, a knife strapped to it, knee high brown boots and fitting brown pants. She took note of his leather cuffs and mentally snorted to herself, internally mocking if he had a kink. Rabbit or not (which this person definitely wasn’t), she would mock anyone, probable kidnapper or not. This person would’ve been handsome had she not been on a random island.

“Wendy~.” He purred, voice tinged with a british accent. “Come out, dear, don’t you want to play?” His head swerved around, but something told her he knew.

Jill was fast and silent when she’d climbed the tree, and he shouldn’t have even imagined where she was,  but a voice in the back of her head cried out in fear, chanting, _he knows oh god he knows where I am he always knows why can’t he just leave me_ alone _this horrible, horrible boy._ Her back pressed tighter into the bark, the rough texture scratching into her skin through the stupid gown.

A silent curse, barely a whisper, shot from her lips as he turned his head and looked straight at her. He shouldn’t have seen her. She was hidden well enough through the branches, the leaves. Heart thrashing, she bit the insides of her cheeks and rubbed her sweaty palms onto her nightgown. This has never happened before. She was strong, independent, _why was she so scared._

“Come here, WendyBird. We both know I already know where you are.”

She gritted her teeth as he stepped closer and snarled.

“Come on.” He mocked and stepped into the shade of the branches, looking up at her, green eyes playing with her. “Don’t you want to see the other boys and play with us? It’s gonna be time to eat soon. You don’t want the last bits of food again, hm, Wendybird?”

“Leave me alone, Peter.” Why did she call him that? It felt as though she couldn’t control her body. As if it was her own, but it was shared with a separate being, one who forced her to watch from the outside looking in.

“But why?” The boy, Peter, snickered.

“I don’t want to play.” Her mouth fired back immediately. “I never wanted to play and each and everyday you and those- those filthy boys force me to! Just leave me alone!”

“I don’t want to. Come on, Wendybird, come down.”

Her blood boiled. “Stop talking to me as if i’m a child!”

“But you are one. You, me, the boys. Why, the only adults here are Hook and his few lackeys, Tink doesn’t count as she’s a fallen fairy,” his eyes twinkled with vicious mirth. “but unless he wants to enter a losing battle, he wouldn’t dare step on _my_ land.”

“I would be an adult had you not kept me!”

“You came on your own will.”

“I was looking for Baelfire and you know it! You _told me_ he was here and you lied! I dueled you to find out where he was you crude, vicious boy and the deal was that you’d tell me and let me go back home! Let me go back home or so help me-”

Peter snickered and the snicker transformed into a guffaw, head back, eyes shut. She wanted to slit his throat. “And I kept my side of the deal, Bird! I wasn’t _lying._ I told you he was in a cave.”

“He wasn’t there when I went to it. That still doesn’t erase the fact you _never let me leave_.” She hissed and pulled back her hand from gripping the wood, dirt and some splinters sticking out of her skin.

He tutted at her, finger waggling in the air. “Think of it as a lesson. You never defined when I had to let you go. It’s not like you have a time limit, dear WendyBird. Think of it as a second chance, or better yet, a ‘slip’ from those ridiculous adult lives.”

Wendy dug her nails into her palms, shaking from the unadulterated, murderous heat coiling in her chest. “I wanted that! I was ok with it! _You_ weren’t!” She flew an accusing finger at the smug boy. “You decided to throw me into a timeless life I never wanted! I want my _life_ back! I want to grow up, write stories, talk to-to others, go on adventures-!”

“You can have adventures here!”

“Not the ones I want though, Peter!” Her voice raked painfully against the insides of her throat. Panting, she glared at him, cheeks flushed damn near ruby.

Peter didn’t bother to hide his enjoyment. He always believed she’d look better with a bit of red. Honestly, she lasted a lot longer than he’d expected with this useless belief of hers. _‘She’ll see it soon.’_ He’d hum to himself.

She just lost her head for a bit and his dear, little WendyBird just needed to learn-- the hard way apparently-- that his kingdom was a much better world to live in. It had more brimming points than the worthless rust of a world she came from. She was full of savage potential, a vicious fight, and creative stories her world didn’t deserve. The only problem was that it would all be forced to be  cooped up in her being. They’d clip her claws and hide her words in a tight knit, “proper woman” smile, back straight, hands over eachother instead of holding a sword that could be used to shed blood. The adults would prim her as a little doll with a big blue bow, forcing her to act as they want, speak as they want, before they marry her off to some pathetic fool that would only water her down and ignore the creativity, the belief and imagination that floated in the air from her, waiting to be used. Obviously he was the smarter of the two. Then again, that wasn’t a surprise. He snickered to himself, watching her eyes glow with wrath- Oh! She was still talking.

“-ake me home!”

Ah, she was still on that.

Peter shook his head. “Nope.” He laughed, popping the ‘p’. His elfin features glowed as the sun flared from his emotions, running over the island with a fierce warmth, wicked amusement splaying over the land as it growed from the girl’s anger.

Wendy snarled and climbed down from her perch. The second she touched the ground, she flew in front of Peter, shoving him back. “Damn you, damn you, _damn you,_ Pan!” She spit his name like the poison of DreamShade.

He just wiggled his finger at her, leering in. She held her ground and he had to look down at her red face. “Go for a walk, Darling. I don’t want the boys to play before they eat.” He tapped her nose with a snicker. She lashed out with a screech, aiming to bloody his stupid grin, but he snapped out and held her wrist, unyielding. Lowering his face to the point the tips of their noses barely brushed, his grin grew sharp, a warning glint alighting his eyes. “Wendy~.”

She shivered at his tone. It was one purred word, but it was lathered with enough malice for her to know to stop. He let go of her and she took her arm back, holding her wrist as if she burned him. With a hiss of, “Damn you, Pan.” She stalked off farther into the woods, a laugh echoing behind her.

The body, Wendy, had walked around some more, brushing away greenery, hissing curses at the plants that tried to tangle across her ankles as if asking to be noticed.

Jill had stayed silent in the back as she watched the banter between the two. It was obvious she was just in the perspective of someone. She was in the outside looking in, watching in the point of view of this girl, Wendy. On a sleepless night, Jill read somewhere that dreams were the body trying to work problems and that each face she saw in dreams had to have been seen somewhere, someplace. This was the first time she’d ever gone lucid in a dream before. Jill had read before that, when someone grew lucid in a dream, a lot of weird shit always went down. Typically bad shit. It was surprising that nothing too horrible happened yet. No rampaging, murderous clowns, or creepy children twins singing some child song or something.

Did this dream mean that she was just having problems with Keith? Jill clicked her tongue. This is too confusing. Everything in this world felt too real. The sand, the scent, the damn heat. Dreams have never felt this real to her. Jill made a note to try and search this up when she woke up. Would she even remember anything in this dream when she did wake up? Jill was silenced in her mulling as she took in the view that Wendy stumbled into. A pirate ship. Out in the sea. Just… Floating there. Rocking along the waves. A fucking pirate ship.

Wendy ran over to a small rowboat and looked down the shore and back into the trees. The view was clear, but Jill had an inkling they still weren’t alone. She hated the feeling and, fortunately, so did Wendy. Wendy quickly hopped into the boat and started to row towards the ship with determination and frustration fuelling her. When she finally got to the ship, after going through endless curses of the elfin boy and his pack, she climbed some rope that hung from the other side of the ship that wasn’t facing the island.

“Red-Handed Jill!”

Jill perked in the back.

“About time ya came here. Captain’s in his quarters with th’ fairy.”

“They’re snippin’ some things like usual.”

“Y’know how it is, lass.”

Wendy only sent a small smile and a wave at some of the members that had acknowledged her before she knocked the Captain’s door.

 _‘Well shit…_ ’ Jill whistled lowly. Instead of some old, haggled man with horrendous, yellow stained teeth, an eye patch, and scars, perhaps even a hunchback, she got the complete opposite. The door opened, showing a lean man. Young enough with white pearls for teeth, sharp, blue eyes, and dark scruff over a strong jawline. He also had a hook for a hand. ‘ _Well fuck me sideways, daddy, how you doin’?’_

Wendy was fortunate to not have heard the thought.

“Wendy, about time you got here. Where were you, love?” He sent out a charming smile and ushered her in before closing the door behind her. The guy had an accent. This dream got better. “Tink’s breezin’ along the map right now. Re-checking things ‘less… Y’know.”

Wendy nodded with a, “That’s good. Sorry for being late, Hook. Pan stuck to me. I fell asleep on accident. Didn’t mean to. It’s just that, last night, those dreadful boys had played with me again.”

The room was fairly big, full of colorful treasures, small cluttered tables with who knows what rolled up papers, and lots of empty alcohol bottles. It was completed with a bed pushed into the corner and a writing bureau and, low and behold, the infamous pirate treasure chest at the foot of the bed. In the center of the room stood a large table on top of a circular rug. It was covered by a map with a blonde dressed in a green dress. Her hair was tied up, blonde curls falling over besides her cheeks. She raised her head and-

'Amella?' Jill scrunched her nose. What type of- There was no mistaking it. That was her cousin. Yeah, Amella looked more tired, tanned with some sweat glistening over her forehead, cheeks flushed from the musky weather, but that was her. She’d know that grimace from anywhere. The grimace disappeared as soon as her eyes laid on Wendy and she quickly ran over and set her hands on her shoulders, green eyes alight with worry.

“Wendy! How’re you? The boys played with you last night, yeah? Did Felix do anything? He’s usually the roughest with you, so I want to make sure-”

Wendy shrugged her off and Jill held back a noise of displeasure. It wasn’t like anyone could hear her, even the pair of eyes she was stuck in, but within this whole, infuriatingly confusing dream, Jill wanted to _some_ form of comfort from her cousin. Even if it was a dream or some look-a-like. “You know how it goes, Tink. I run, they chase. They catch me, I get bruised up and cut up…” Wendy growled the words, obviously vexed by the ‘playtime’ as the boys called it.

Wendy hated running, but they never really gave her a break. It was when they started to push for breaking bones that Peter stepped in and would stop it all. He hated it when the boys were close to breaking his WendyBird’s wings. That didn’t mean the boys hadn’t left a sprain here and there. If the boys didn’t play with her until her bruises healed, Wendy knew for a fact Peter was getting ready to play with her himself. If it were a sprain, he would heal it for her in the grace period.

Tink growled indignation under her breath. “Damn them…”

Captain Hook came up to the ladies, his hook sweeping out towards the table as he set a hand on top of Wendy’s shoulder. “Now, now, ladies. Cool your anger for now so we can think clearly, eh?” He smirked. Tink nodded with a grunt of agreement and walked over to the map. Hook led Wendy to the table. “We have to talk about our… _Rendezvous._ ”

Jill caught the words, ‘Freedom from Neverland’ atop the map before her world flashed blindingly white and the feeling of falling into an endless hole overtook her.

* * *

 

With a gasp, she shot up, hand gripping at the top of the couch. Chest heaving, sweat covering the front of her shirt, some coughs racked her ribs as she tried to catch her breath. Right, she was still sick. After a few moments of trying to collect herself, unfocused eyes flashed as she felt the sting of her wounds. That wasn’t what bothered her though. It was the fact she swore she still smelt the scent of a salty sea. She wasn’t that close to the edge of town. She looked at her other hand and rubbed her fingers together. Sand. It was like a phantom touch, but it disappeared in seconds.

“Jill?”

Her head whipped to the side and it was then she realized that Amella was kneeling beside her on the floor, looking up at her with worry as she rubbed Jill’s lower back. Whatever look was on her face hadn't proved to be any help, because Amella shifted and reached out to hold Jill’s hand that had the phantom touch. Jill hadn’t noticed she was trembling. Why hadn't she noticed? She should've noticed. She always knows if anything's off about her body. Why did that dream feel so real? It wasn't real. It wasn't-

“Hey, hey.” Amella said slowly. “It’s alright. You have a nightmare?”

Jill just gaped at her and finally shut her mouth, gulping little saliva on a dry throat.

“You’re ok, you’re here. You must’ve seen some shit, eh?” Despite the playful tone, Jill reveled in the feel of Amella running her thumb on her hand. “It’s alright, Jill. You’re here now. In this shit town called, Storybrooke. You’re in my home, on my couch. Woke you up a bit before your fight. You still wanna go..?” Amella tilted her head and smiled gently, her tone calming over Jill’s vibrating nerves. It felt like static in her mind.

Despite it all, Jill nodded robotically.

Amella’s smile dropped a bit, but it quickly came back with tweaked brows. “Alright. Let me go get you some food then wake up Ceann. I’ll be right back ok?”

Amella stood to go, but Jill finally had enough motor skills to grab her wrist. She didn’t want Ceann to see her like this. She was the strong one, the one to help him, Amella, and herself to escape. He couldn’t wake up yet. She ignored the part of herself that called her weak because she didn’t want Amella to go either. Amella was her cousin. She wouldn’t talk to Jill like she was a piece of shit or leave her for being like this. Amella was loyal.

Her cousin looked down at her with surprise, but it washed away when she processed the whimper barely holding itself in Jill’s throat. “Ok.” She answered to the unspoken words. Jill shifted so Amella could sit down beside her hips. Amella held onto her trembling hands. “I’ll stay with you.”

Jill nodded and hugged Amella tightly.

' _My name is Jill_.' She stressed to herself. ' _My name is Jill. Not Wendy. My name is Jill.'_ She was conscious it was a dream. She _knows_ it was a dream. Why was it affecting her more when she woke up? Her grip on Amella tightened and she buried her face into Amella's shoulder.

She never thought she would hate the idea of falling asleep.

_'My name is Jill.'_

Why did it feel so wrong to think that then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *beats this dead horse of a fanfic until ideas come out* LIVE, DAMN YOU, LIVE.


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